Ella ran. She drove back to the estate.
She found the scroll. It felt hot.
She unrolled the skin-scroll.
First wish was a grey stain.
She used a needle. Pierced the thumb.
The blood bubbled on the surface.
She wrote. Fast. Smearing the edges.
*I wish for Leo to be healed. Now.*
Pain hit her collarbone.
A burn.
The skin bubbled. A black vine pattern carved itself into her chest.
She didn't care.
Keys. Engine.
She had to know if she had just saved her brother, or damned herself.
Ella went back to the room.
Leo was sitting up. He was eating.
Ella sat on the floor.
"Miracle," the doctor said.
Roman stood by the window, watching. He met Ella's eyes. He nodded slowly.
*It worked.*
Ella sent Dr. Aris away. She hugged Leo until he complained, then promised to bring him home as soon as he was discharged.
Roman drove her back to the estate. The silence in the car was heavy, charged with an energy Ella couldn't name.
"You saved him," Ella whispered, breaking the silence. "You told me what to do."
"You saved him, Ella," Roman corrected, keeping his eyes on the road. "You had the will. You paid the price."
He glanced at her collarbone, hidden beneath her shirt. He knew.
When they arrived at the estate, Roman didn't go to his study as usual. He walked Ella to her room.
"You should rest," he said, standing at her door. "You've had a shock."
Ella looked at him. This man—this powerful, terrifying man—had given her everything. He had avenged her. He had saved her family.
"I don't want to rest," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to be alone."
Roman's eyes darkened. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
"Be careful, Ella," he warned, his voice rough. "I am not a patient man. If I stay... I won't leave."
"Good," Ella said. She reached out and took his hand. She pulled him toward her.
She needed to feel alive. She needed to feel connected to the source of this power.
Roman pulled her in.
His mouth was a collision.
Bourbon and woodsmoke.
He lifted her. Heavy.
Sheets. Shadows.
Roman paused when he saw it—the black vine tattoo on her collarbone.
He traced it with his thumb. Ella's skin crawled, a million needle-pricks of heat.
"Beautiful," he whispered, sounding almost reverent. "A mark of conviction."
"It's ugly," Ella said, trying to cover it.
"No," Roman pinned her wrists above her head.
His eyes were burning into hers.
"It's perfect. It means you're willing to do what it takes."
"It means you're *mine*."
"I am."
He kissed the mark. Jolts of white noise in her brain.
"Roman. Yours."
She didn't hear the cage lock.
She only felt the heat.